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REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

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FOLLOWING    JESUS 


OTHER    POEMS. 


V\/ 


roiLiLowiiK©  dj 


AND 


>tM$  Sterna 


PHILADELPHIA: 
GEORGE  &  WAYNE,  26  S.  FIFTH  STREET. 

KING    \ND  BAIRD,  PRINTERS. 

1845. 


%•  Many  of  the  pieces  in  this  collection,  have  been  already 
published  in  the  journals  of  the  Church, — chiefly  in  the  Banner  of 
the  Cross, — under  the  signature  ;<\Y.  A.  W.":  "  Jesus'  Call,-5  was 
signed  "  Clairvaux." 

The  Poem  for  St.  Matthew's  Day,  was  written  in  1S41, just  pre- 
vious to  that  Festival,  for  the  gratification  of  some  of  the  author's 
friends. 


CONTEXTS. 


Page. 

Following  Jesus, 11 

Hold  the  Cross, 21 

Sonnets, 23 

Iona, 25 

Lenten  Vesper  Hymn, 2S 

Music, 30 

Albion, 31 

Crux  Mihi  Anchora, 33 

Easter  Hymn, 35 

Lines,    . , 38 

Jesus'  Call, 39 

Springs  of  Water, 42 

Music  of  the  Tower, 44 

Quam  Dilecta, 46 

The  Last  Day  of  the  Year, 4> 

Banner  of  the  Cross, 51 

Notus  in  Judea, 53 

Beatitudes, 55 

Patmos, 57 


Vlll 


Christmas  Ode, 60 

Stanzas, 64 

Daily  Devotion, 66 

Lines  in  an  Album, 68 

The  Patriarch's  Shrine, 70 

Orate  Fratres, 72 

The  Evening  Lights, .  74 

Sonnets, 77 

Lux  Alma  Jesu, 79 


FOLLOWING  JESUS : 


A  POEM 


FOR    ST.    MATTHEW'S    DAY. 


O  Son  of  David  !  didst  not  thou  inspire, 

Erst  the  sweet  singers  lyre? 
When,  knowing  how  thou  wouldst  the  Heathen  raise. 

He  offered  up  their  praise  ! 

And  wilt  thou  not,  to-day  our  Gentile  hearts 

Tune  as  well  to  their  parts  ? 
That  called  to  be  from  sordid  world-aims  free, 

We  rise  and  follow  Thee. 

Introits.— Feast  of  St.  Matthew. 


FOLLOWING  JESUS. 


There  is  a  charm  in  every  passing  stream, 

A  holy  spell  in  those  sweet  waves  that  gleam, 

Where  once  Messiah's  sacred  voice  was  heard, 

With  power  declaring  truth's  unchanging  word. 

0  call  it  blessed,  that  calm,  little  sea, 

Around  whose  verdant  banks,  in  ecstacy, 

Thrice  eager  thousands  press'd  to  learn  of  Him, 

Adored  above  by  saint  and  seraphim ; 

Whose  mighty  throne,  long  ere  the  world,  was  made, 

With  firm  foundation,  gloriously  laid ; 

E'en  Him,  who  left  the  brilliant  walks  of  gold, 

For  earth's  sad  poverty,  distress  and  cold ; 


12 

Whose  only  palace,  tho'  the  Lord  of  all, 
Was  Bethlehem's  humble  manger  and  its  stall. 

Thou  art,  Genesareth,  a  hallo  w'd  place,(l) 
For  thou  hast  seen  Messiah's  heavenly  face. 
Thy  waters  were  the  glassy  way,  that  trod 
Mysterious  footsteps  of  the  Son  of  God ! 
And  He  with  chosen,  zealous  band  beside, 
Walk'd  on  thy  shore,  and  taught  upon  thy  tide. 

It  was  by  thee,  'mid  ships  and  snowy  sail, 
Fanned  by  the  breeze,  and  rustled  by  the  gale, 
That  Levi  sat,(2)  a  true  and  righteous  man, 
Blameless  and  pure,  e'en  tho'  a  publican. 
He,  by  the  voice  of  Jesus  called,  obey'd ; 
And  gladly  following,  a  priest  was  made, 
Of  rites  more  blest  than  those  of  Judah's  shrine, 
A  happy  herald  of  the  grace  divine ; 
To  Jews,  his  own  beloved,  by  race  and  kin, 
And  Gentile  wand'rers  by  the  waste  of  Zin.(3) 
Nor  labour'd  Matthew  in  his  work  alone ; 
For  Jesus  friends  arose  in  every  zone, 
Taught  by  the  faithful  few  from  Salem  sent, 
Wide  spreading  light  and  wisdom  as  they  went ; 


13 

Like  angel  spirits  called  to  cheer  the  earth, 

And  stay  with  plenteous  hand  its  woeful  dearth. 

On,  on  they  sped,  with  holy  cross  in  hand, 

Till  polish'd  Greece,  and  swarthy  Ethiop's  land, 

Beheld  alike  a  peaceful  banner  raised, 

"  Good  will  to  man"  upon  its  foldings  blazed. 

And  saw  they  too  in  many  a  different  clime, 

The  saints  and  worthy  ones  of  olden  time, 

Who  loving  Jesus  with  an  ardent  love, 

Kept  the  sure  path  that  leads  to  bliss  above ; 

Who  following  Jesus  with  a  martyr's  zeal, 

Found  life  in  death ;  in  woe,  eternal  weal. 

0  tell  me  where  their  sound  has  not  been  heard  ? 

Where,  save  in  lonely  haunt  of  wildest  bird  ? 

Where,  save  in  desert  lone  and  island  drear, 

Unfound  by  man,  unknown  to  wisest  seer  ? 

For  they  have  climb 'd  the  mountain's  craggy  height, 

And  scaled  its  rugged  peak  of  purest  white, 

Where  polar  snows  their  reign  perennial  keep  ; 

And  they  have  roam'd  far  o'er  the  mighty  deep. 

To  bid  its  isles(4)  the  King  of  Heaven  obey  : 

Vast  Ocean's  sons  the  promised  homage  pay, 

2* 


14 

The  billows  lift  their  anthems  to  the  skies, 
And  prayers  of  faith  like  grateful  incense  rise. 
"  Come,  follow  me," — the  sacred  summons  made, 
What  power  of  earth  the  call'd  disciple  stayed  ?(5) 
One  leaves  his  bark  still  floating  on  the  lake, 
And  joyful  parts  with  home  for  Jesus'  sake ; 
One  quits  the  busy  mart  of  wealth  and  gain, 
And  ships  and  costly  goods  upon  the  main, 
Welcomes  the  Master  to  his  gather'd  store, 
And  seeks  the  riches  of  the  world  no  more. 
What  then  was  icy  cold,  to  him  whose  heart 
Glow'd  with  desire  to  bear  the  martyr's  part  ? 
What  then  was  parching  heat,  or  burning  sun, 
To  him  refresh'd  by  gushing  streams  that  run 
Fresh  from  life's  fountain  to  the  fainting  soul, 
Imparting  strength  and  solace  as  they  roll  ? 
Poor  and  alone,  unheeded  by  the  world, 
Save  when  the  lip  of  scorn  and  hate  was  curl'd ; 
Lights,  amid  blackest  darkness,  purely  shed; 
The  only  living  mid  the  many  dead  :(6) 
By  thrones  assail'd,  by  meanest  huts  revil'd ; 


15 

Mock'd  by  the   strong;    (the  weak  look'd  on   and 

smil'd ;) 
Scourg'd  to  amuse  the  rabble  by  the  way, 
And  burn'd  to  gleam  upon  a  gala  day. (7) 
Such  were  the  Christians  that  the  world  first  knew, 
A  band  in  living  and  in  dying  true. 
They  who  like  champions  on  the  plain  of  sin. 
Rush'd  with  fleet  pace  the  noble  fight  to  win  ; 
Whose  dazzling  breastplates  quench'd  the  fiery  dart 
Of  bitter  foe  and  madly  erring  heart ; 
Whose  helmets  shone  far  o'er  the  battle  field, 
And  glistening  weapons  bade  Abaddon  yield. 
They  whom  the  church  hath  priz'd  in  ev'ry  age, 
Whose  deeds  are  told  in  all  her  sacred  page, 
And  o'er  whose  hallo  w'd  graves  the  ancient  fane 
Lifts  up  its  spires,  a  witness  for  the  slain ! 
And  hark  !  it  speaks,  and  seems  this  word  to  tell ; — 
"  Christ  and  his  cross,  0  mortal !  follow  well : 
u  Fear  not  the  world,  but  look  to  Heaven  in  prayer. 
u  The  martyr's  rest,  the  pilgrim's  home,  is  there  !" 

0  know  ye  not  Ignatius'  worthy  name  ?(S) 
Have  ye  not  heard  of  Polycarp  the  fame  ?(9) 


16 

The  aged  prelate  with  white  flowing  hair, 
Lov'd  by  the  church  for  apostolic  care  ? 
He  who  on  Smyrna's  fertile,  happy  soil, 
Long  kept  the  flock  with  faithful  shepherd's  toil  ? 
He  whom  nor  bribe,  nor  stake,  nor  bloody  steel, 
Could  tempt  to  swear  by  royal  Caesar's  weal  ? 
"  Swear  by  thy  Caesar  ?  Nay,"  the  Christian  said, 
And  turn'd  to  Heaven  in  prayer  his  hoary  head  ; 
Own'd  while  he  pointed  to  the  azure  sky, 
No  king  but  Him  who  ever  rules  on  high ; 
Own'd  e'en  rejected  Jesus  as  his  Lord, 
And  bade  the  countless  throng  believe  his  word. 
And  when  loud  exclamations  rent  the  air, — 
"Bring  to  the  stake,  and  let  him  perish  there  !" 
With  look  serene  the  holy  man  survey'd 
Torch,  stake,  and  faggot  speedily  array'd ; 
Laid  the  pure  vesture  of  the  church  aside, 
And  'mid  the  vivid,  sweeping,  fiery  tide, 
Like  some  choice  off'ring  meet  for  sacrifice, 
Show'd  to  the  world  how  calm  the  martyr  dies. 

'Twere  long  but  pleasant  task,  to  speak  of  those 
Brave  souls,  Augustin,  Martin,  and  Ambrose  ;(10) 


17 

And  Bede,  the  meek  recluse  of  Yarrow's  shade,(ll) 
Whom  priest  and  prelate  worthy  honours  paid  ; 
Sons  of  the  church,  with  noble  spirits  blest, 
Lov'd  in  their  lives  and  peaceful  in  their  rest. 
'Tis  good  to  speak  of  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,(12) 
Who  rais'd  the  cross  'mid  peaks  of  Alpine  snow ; 
Whose  kind  asylums  give  the  stranger  cheer, 
That  strays  exhausted  through  the  mountains  here, 
And  lost  in  icy  vales  and  forests  drear, 
Hears  the  soft  bells  that  tell  him  aid  is  near, 
When  marking  through  the  drifted  waste  a  path, 
The  faithful  mastiffs  show  a  ruddy  hearth, 
Where  aged  men  sit  round  the  sparkling  flame, 
And  welcome  give  in  Jesus'  holy  name. 

Christ  has  been  follow'd,  and  what  tho'  the  power 
Of  Christian  crowns  and  thrones  in  evil  hour, 
Fell  'neath  the  sabre  of  the  Saracen  ; 
And  Norman  shouts  were  heard  in  vict'ry  then ; 
What  though  from  palace  halls  of  Constantine, 
By  ruthless  hand,  was  torn  the  Cross  divine  ; 
And  rais'd  on  fair  Sophia's(13)  temple  height. 
The  golden  crescent  shone  with  dazzling  lisrlit  ? 


18 

Tho'  peaceful  monarchs  from  their  seats  were  driven, 
And  castle-gate  and  massive  door  were  riven  : 
Tho'  churches  burn'd  with  sacrilegious  fire, 
And  wavy  flames  wrapt  high  the  olden  spire, 
Still  liv'd  the  truth ;  and  followed  Jesus  then, 
Long  undismayed,  a  host  of  fearless  men  ; 
In  life  so  blameless,  innocent,  and  pure, 
So  true  in  faith,  to  Holy  Church  so  sure, 
That  hostile  weapons  powerless  fell  beside 
Christ's  oft  assail'd,  but  well  defended  Bride. 

Christ  was  still  followed  ;  and  the  pagan  sword 
In  that  late  day  oft  drank  the  Christian's  blood  ; 
And  driven  forth,  the  heralds  took  the  word 
O'er  mountain  height  and  swiftly  rolling  flood. 
Like  pious  Otto,(14)  prelate  of  renown, 
Who  as  he  roam'd  alone  from  town  to  town, 
By  night  his  weary  footsteps  onward  bent, 
And  sweetly  chanted  vespers  as  he  went. 

Alas  !  alas  !  the  times  when  error  rose, 
And  Zion  found  her  kinsmen  were  her  foes ; 
When  dark  contention's  fearful,  low'ring  cloud, 
Hung  o'er  meek  homes,  and  minsters  old  and  proud ; 


19 


When  sacred  mitres  met  in  bold  array, 
And  mad  ambition  banish'd  peace  away. 
The  path  was  lost  the  ancient  fathers  trod  ; 
Lost  the  old  way,  that  led  the  church  to  God. 
Yet  on  this  cheerless  scene  there  rose  afar, 
Bright  in  the  West,  clear  Wickliffe,  morning  star:(15) 
And  then  in  Zurich's  canton,  calm  and  fair, 
Zuingle(16)  shone  in  constant  lustre  there, 
And  once  again  "the  light  of  other  days" 
Streamed  from  the  skies,  on  Zion's  happy  ways, 
And  watchmen  bold  as  those  of  olden  time, 
Their  solemn  cry  sent  forth  at  eve  and  prime ; 
Who  found  a  prophet's  doom  for  Jesus'  sake, 
And  died  so  bright  enrob'd  at  burning  stake, 
That  radiance  cheers  the  soil  on  which  they  fell ; 
For  England  yet  the  sacred  place  may  tell, 
Where  Latimer  and  Ridley(17)  rest  enshrined, 
Lov'd  by  her  sons,  and  known  to  all  mankind. 
Joy  to  the  church !  for  holier  days  returned, 
With  truth  from  Christ  the  ancient  Fathers  learn'd  : 
The  Northern  Isles  by  godly  envoys  blest,(lS) 
With  zeal  fulfilled  the  Saviour's  great  behest ; 


20 

Till  Jesus'  name  was  known  throughout  the  world, 

Where'er  Britannia's  ensign  was  unfurl'd. 

Neglected  India's  wide  extended  strand, 

Met  on  her  sands  a  warm  devoted  band ; 

Saw  the  bright  mitre  that  a  Heber  wore,(19) 

And  lov'd  the  crosier  that  he  gently  bore. 

Joy  to  the  church  !  for  on  our  western  shore, 

Tho'  rose  she  humbly  in  the  days  of  yore, 

Yet  spreads  she  now  her  kind  maternal  arms, 

Pure  in  her  fame,  and  spotless  in  her  charms. (20) 

Joy  to  the  church  !  the  true  Incarnate  Word, 

O'er  crowns  and  kingdoms  yet  in  might  shall  reign, 

His  praise  in  ev'ry  zone  and  clime  be  heard, 

Sung  by  the  earth,  re-echoed  by  the  main, 

From  Christian  ships,  whose  pennants  wave  on  high, 

And  bear  the  Cross,  uplifted  to  the  sky ; 

Land  unto  land,  and  sea  to  sea,  rehearse 

The  worth  of  those  recorded  in  our  verse  ; 

And  time  will  show,  as  time  has  ever  shown, 

A  Saviour  followed,  where  a  Saviour  known. 


HOLD  THE  CROSS. 


•  Seize  the  banner,  spread  its  fold ! 
Seize  it  with  no  faltering  hold  ! 
Spread  its  foldings  high  and  fair, 
Let  all  see  the  cross  is  there." 

Hold  the  cross,  Christian,  and  speed  on  thy  way ; 
Thy  foes  they  be  many,  and  dark  is  the  day  : 
Fight  the  good  battle  that  martyrs  have  won, 
Thy  rest  shall  be  sweet  when  thy  labour  is  done. 

Hold  the  cross,  Christian ;  take  helmet  and  shield : 
The  legions  of  darkness  are  forth  in  the  field : 
Black  waving  banners  by  thousands  arise. 
And  brood  o'er  the  plain  like  the  clouds  of  the  skies. 


22 

Hold  the  cross,  Christian,  and  light  from  on  high 
Shall  play  on  its  summit,  when  conquest  is  nigh ; 
Strong  is  thine  arm  in  the  might  of  the  Lord, 
And  sure  is  thy  weapon,  the  truth  of  his  word. 

Hold  the  cross,  Christian,  and  speed  on  thy  way ; 
Tho'  foes  may  be  many,  tho'  dark  be  the  day  : 
Fight  the  good  battle  that  martyrs  have  w^on, 
Thy  rest  shall  be  sweet  when  thy  labour  is  done. 


SONNETS. 

THE  LADY  ADORNED. THE  LACKING  JEWEL. 

I. 

"  What  lack  I  yet  ?" — methinks  it  all  is  fair, 
All  well  adorn' d,  from  foot  to  tiara, 
That  gleams  resplendent  from  my  flowing  hair. 
With  famed  Golconda's  lustres  sparkling  there  ; 
And  these  rich  jewels  from  the  climes  afar, 
The  jasper  burning  with  its  yellow  hue  ; 
The  sapphire  waving  with  its  modest  blue ; — 
Sweet  gems  of  beauty  from  a  foreign  strand, 
Enshrined  in  cunning  work  of  purest  gold ; 
The  happy  treasures  of  another's  land. 
And  gotten  us,  (they  say,)  with  toil  untold. 
And  sighs  and  tears  of  pagan  men — but  hold  ! — 


24 


Lack  I  aught  yet  ?  nay,  all  is  well  I  ween, 
All  dazzling  bright  that  shineth  to  be  seen. 

ii. 
"  One  thing  thou  lackest,"  yet  one  jewel  fair,- 
Religion  ;  that  with  pure  and  constant  ray, 
Thou  may'st  upon  thy  young  heart  sweetly  wear, 
A  talisman  and  gem  celestial  there  ; 
Which  angePs  hands  may  give  us  when  we  pray, 
Bright  sparkling  from  their  caskets  kept  above, 
And  marked  with  Jesus'  name  and  sign  of  love. 
Take  from  thine  hair  the  wedge  of  Afric's  gold, 
And  cast  the  rich  wrought  garb  aside, 
And  e'en  the  precious  clasp  of  jet  unfold, 
That  shows  its  diamond  from  some  mine  of  old. 
Tho'  unadorned,  if  Christ's  own  coronet 
Upon  thy  brow  with  its  mild  light  be  set, 
Thine  is  the  beauty  of  a  heavenly  bride. 


IONA. 


"  That  man  is  little  to  be  envied  whose  piety  would  not  grow 
warmer  among  the  ruins  of  lona." — Dr.  Johnson. 

Illustrious  isle  !  once  Caledonia's  pride. 
Columba's  home,  and  Scotia's  beacon  light ! 
That  o'er  the  waters  of  the  western  sea, 
Shed  the  glad  rays  of  sacred  truth  afar, 
How  holy  is  thy  name  !  thy  soil  how  dear ! 
Tho'  least  among  the  Hebrides  thou  art, 
On  whom  Ben-Nevis  looks  in  grandeur  down, 
Like  some  proud  monarch  from  his  rocky  throne, 
Whose  granite  base  the  billows  lash  in  vain, 
And  towering  height  eternal  snows  conceal. 
Yet  hast  thou  greatness  and  immortal  fame, 


26 

By  all  the  lustre  of  thy  church  of  old ; 

By  mitres  worthy,  and  by  crosiers  mild  ; 

By  abbey  cloister,  and  cathedral  spire, 

Where  wisdom  true  and  piety  sincere, 

Won  many  a  Highland  heart  from  error's  way ; 

And  brought  the  savage  clans  to  Jesus'  cross, 

The  font  of  grace,  and  holy  altar's  feast. 

Here  brave  Columba  stood  with  zealous  soul, 

And  'mid  the  ocean  rais'd  a  cresset  bright, 

Whose  ruddy  flame  dispelled  the  deep'ning  gloom 

Of  sin,  and  showed  to  man  the  ark  of  God. 

So  oft  some  island  tower  its  saving  rays 

Throws  forth  with  sweetest  cheer,  at  dead  of  night ; 

Illumes  the  troubled  main,  and  safely  guides 

The  wand'ring  bark  to  reach  the  port  of  peace. 

Here,  'mid  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  fane, 

Lie  Scotland's  golden  crowns  of  yore  ;  and  kings 

Of  Erin,  France,  and  Norway  sought  a  grave, 

Iona,  in  thy  consecrated  ground. 

Forsaken  island  !  olden  home  of  truth  ! 

Tho'  now  no  more  the  Christian  student's  haunt ; 


27 

No  more,  as  erst,  the  seat  of  holy  lore. 
When  surplic'd  priests,  with  mitred  head  before, 
In  solemn  state  march'd  through  the  parvis  grand ; 
Vet  art  thou  dear  to  faithful  hearts,  who  prize 
A  saint's  sequestered  tomb, — a  martyr's  grave  ; 
And  count  thy  long  departed  host,  with  us, 
One  household  joined  in  unity  of  faith. 


LENTEN  VESPER  HYMN. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    LATIN. 

Kind  Creator,  Father,  hear, 
While  we  pray  with  humble  fear  : 
While  we  mourn  for  sins  to-day, 
Wipe  our  falling  tears  away. 

Thou  hast  known  our  erring  way ; 
Thou  hast  watched  us  when  astray  : 
Lo  !  we  now  return  to  thee, 
Pity  our  infirmity. 

Many  sins  we  here  lament ; 
Spare,  0  spare,  for  we  repent : 


29 

For  thy  glory  give  us  peace ; 
Grant  our  captive  souls  release. 

Whilst  the  flesh  we  now  control. 
Feed  with  holy  food  the  soul ; 
Let  our  hearts,  from  sin  set  free, 
Glow  with  constant  love  to  Thee. 

Holy,  blessed  Trinity, 
Undivided  Unity, 
Richest  fruits  to  us  convey, 
In  our  solemn  fast  to-day. 


MUSIC. 

"Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the  heart,  and  music  also  in 
heaven." 

Home  hath  music,  for  the  tone 
Of  voices  there  is  passing  dear ; 

And  when  the  soul  is  sad  and  lone. 
It  longs  that  melody  to  hear. 

Hearts  have  music,  when  they  beat 

Together  harmonies  of  love  ; 
While  hymning  thoughts  in  concert  sweet, 

To  holy  measures  made  above. 

* 

Heaven  hath  music ;  harps  of  gold, 
Touched  by  angelic  fingers  sound, 

And  chants  begun  in  days  of  old, 
By  saint  and  seraph  echo  round. 


ALBION. 

The  position  of  St.  Alban's  festival  in  the  old  calendar,  on  a  day 
endeared  to  every  American,  (June  17,)  is  singularly  happy.  For 
while,  as  patriots,  we  call  to  mind  the  efforts  of  those  who  con- 
tended for  our  independence  on  Bunker's  heights,  we  may,  as 
churchmen,  love  to  remember  "  the  noble  army  of  martyrs,"  and 
especially  England's  true  hero,  the  soldier-saint — Alban. 

Sound  the  trumpet,  0  Albion !  wake  thee  to-day  ! 
And  forth  on  each  castle  the  red  cross  display ! 
For  a  host  of  thy  martyrs,  all  clad  for  the  fight, 
I  view  on  the  plains  with  their  armor  of  light. 

In  the  north  they  are  gathered  by  Verulam's  stream, 
Whose  blood-hallow'd  waters  resplendently  gleam, 
While  the  troop  of  Messiah  in  splendor  moves  by, 
With  heralds  before  from  the  palace  on  high. 


32 

All  their  banners  are  bright,  and  in  letters  of  gold, 
"  Jesus"  I  see,  when  the  sheet  they  unfold ; 
While  the  laurel  and  olive  their  helmets  entwine, 
They  march  to  the  measure  of  music  divine. 

Sound  the  trumpet,  0  Albion !  wake  thee  to-day 
On  fortress  and  turret  the  red  cross  display, 
Strike  the  cymbal  and  drum,  let  the  loud  organ  sound, 
In  camp  and  in  fane  pour  the  chorus  around. 

Be  the  memory  bless'd  of  that  noble  array, 

Of  worthies  we  love  and  remember  to-day. 

Let  the  standard  they  priz'd  in  the  east  and  the  west? 

Long  guide  to  the  battle,  the  triumph  and  rest. 


"CRUX  MIHI  ANCHORA." 

When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee. — 
Isa.  xliii.  2. 

Thy  cross  is  my  anchor,  and  safely  I  rest, 

When  storms  and  high  billows  are  raging  around  ; 

If  closely  I  cling  to  thine  arm  I  am  blest, 

And  hear  thy  sweet  voice  'mid  the  wild  tempest 
sound. 

Thy  love  will  I  trust,  when  I  pass  thro'  the  wave, 
Tho'  troubled  and  dark  be  the  face  of  the  main, 

Thine  own  promised  succour  my  spirit  shall  save, 
And  give  me  repose  in  thy  haven  again. 


34 


The  blaze  of  the  beacon  the  seaman  may  fail ; 
The  anchor  be  mov'd  by  the  deep  and  the  gale : 
But  Thou  shalt  relieve  me  in  ev'ry  distress. 
Thy  light  and  thy  strength  shall  life's  rough  voyage 
bless. 


EASTER  HYMN. 


Arise  !  arise  ! 

Ere  from  the  skies 
The  dusky  shades  of  night  have  fled 

0  come,  my  heart, 

Act  well  thy  part, 
Thy  Lord  is  ris'n  from  the  dead. 

'Tis  morn  !  'tis  morn  ! 

Awake !  forlorn, 
Who  wept  at  eve  by  Jesus'  tomb. 

The  broken  seal 

Foretells  our  weal, 
And  giveth  joy  for  heavy  gloom. 


36 

The  Easter  light, 

A  glorious  sight, 
Shines  forth  on  ev'ry  Christian  spire  ; 

And  turret  height, 

And  casement  bright, 
Are  kindling  with  celestial  fire. 

With  roses  twine 

The  holy  shrine ; 
There  let  your  richest  lustres  gleam : 

A  noble  strain, 

Within  the  fane, 
Awake  !  with  morn's  inspiring  beam. 

Arise !  arise ! 

For  lo  !  the  skies 
Are  mark'd  with  ev'ry  lovely  ray ; 

The  jasper  hue, 

The  sapphire's  blue, 
Make  splendor  for  the  festive  day. 


37 

Then  come  with  the  dawn,  to  the  temple,  away  ! 
For  "  Jesus  is  ris'n,"  they  joyfully  say  ; 
There  sweet  be  the  anthem  our  glad  voices  raise. 
While  nature  is  joining  the  pageant  and  praise. 


4^ 


LINES 

WRITTEN    WHILE    A    FRIEND    WAS     PLAYING     SACRED 
MELODIES    ON    THE    PIANO. 

0  when  life  from  me  is  fleeting, 

Mellow  music  let  me  hear ; 
And  may  angel  minstrels  meeting, 

Hymn  a  paean  o'er  my  bier. 

Earth  to  earth,  in  peace  consigning, 
Chanting  bear  me  to  my  grave ; 

While  my  soul  to  Christ  resigning, 
I  would  sing  his  pow'r  to  save. 


JESUS'  CALL. 

Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest — St.  Matt.  xi.  28. 
She  went  her  way  and  called  Mary  her  sister  secretly,  saying, 
The  Master  is  come,  and  calleth  thee. — St.  John,  xi.  28. 

The  Master  calleth :  hearest  thou 

His  sweet  and  gentle  tone  ? 
That  voice  hath  spoken  oft;  and  now 

Thou  know'st  it  when  alone. 

In  hours  of  silence,  when  the  mirth 

Of  merry  ones  is  hush'd  ; 
When  hopes  upon  the  autumn  earth 

Are  strewn,  decayed  and  crushed  ; 


40 

When  hands  we  cross  on  bosoms  cold, 
Hands  that  we  oft  have  pressed ; 

Is  it  not  then  in  whispers  told, 
"  Come,  I  will  give  thee  rest  ?" 

When  fearful  lest  we  faint  beside 

The  road  that  leads  above, 
We  ask  a  staff,  a  friend,  a  guide, 

To  lead  us  on  in  love ; 
Hear  !  then,  the  Saviour  calleth  thee, 

In  accents  fond  and  blest, 
u  0  weary  pilgrim  !  come  to  me, 

And  I  will  give  thee  rest." 

Come,  while  the  mystic  waters  gleam, 

Mov'd  by  some  priestly  hand, 
Receive,  with  that  thrice  hallow'd  stream, 

The  sign  of  Jesus'  band, — 
The  precious  cross  upon  thy  brow, 

A  jewel  priceless  fair, 
The  richest  gem  on  earth,  that  thou 

Above  may'st  nobly  wear. 


41 

And  while,  'mid  solemn  chant  and  prayer, 

The  ark  is  ope'd  to  thee1, 
The  Saviour's  voice  shall  cheer  thee  there, 

"  0  welcome  thou  to  me  !" 


SPRINGS  OF  WATER. 

Give  me  a  blessing ;  give  me  also  springs  of  water. — Josh.  xv.  19. 

"And  from  the  turf  a  fountain  broke, 
And  gurgled  at  our  feet." — Wordsworth. 

'Tis  the  pure  wine  of  Eden,  that  Adam  once  drank, 
As  he  sat  with  his  Eve  by  the  cool,  mossy  bank, 
Of  the  clear,  sparkling  current  that  rolPd  by  his  side, 
And  reflected  the  sky  in  its  bright  crystal  tide. 

Ah !  how  sweet  to  the  pilgrim,  exhausted,  oppressed, 
When  he  seeks  by  the  wayside  refreshment  and  rest, 
From  the  thick  shady  grove  to  receive  the  glad  sound, 
Of  the  murmuring  rill,  as  it  echoes  around. 


43 

How  he  hastes  through  the  thicket  to  taste  the  pure 

stream ! 
And,  while  soothed  by  its  music,  he  lies  down  to 

dream, 
Till  the  heat  and  the  calm  of  the  midday  are  o'er, 
And  the  soft  wind  of  evening  blows   freshly  once 

more. 

'Tis  the  free  gift  of  God,  for  the  rich  and  the  poor ; — 
For  the  fair,  gentle  Briton, — the  dark,  haughty  Moor  : 
Like  the  mercy  of  Heaven,  to  the  world  it  is  known, 
And  its  founts  and  its  streams  are  the  gems  of  each 
zone. 


THE  MUSIC  OF  THE  TOWER. 

The  tower  of  Trinity  church,  Nantucket  Isle,  is  accidentally  so 
situated  and  constructed,  that  the  lattices  of  its  windows  are  like 
an  JEolian  harp,  making  sweet  music  continually. 

0  hear  that  soft  and  mellow  strain, 

That  riseth  sweet  and  clear ; 
The  voice  that  sounds  o'er  isle  and  main, 

Like  some  fair  minstrel  here. 

It  joineth  oft  on  holy  day, 

The  noble  chant  of  praise ; 
And  with  the  worship  that  we  pay, 

It  blendeth  tender  lays. 


45 

And  here  it  carols  ere  the  light, 

With  many  a  gentle  tone ; 
And  singeth  in  the  dead  of  night, 

Its  vesper-hymn  alone. 

With  music  sometime  sad  and  low ; — 

A  dirge-like  song — a  sigh  : 
Or  swelling,  when  the  fresh  winds  blow, 

In  joyous  melody. 

I  love  thee,  sacred  Gothic  tower, 

And  when  far  o'er  the  sea, 
I  oft  shall  think  at  evening  hour, 

Of  thy  sweet  minstrelsy. 

Then  fare  thee  well :  and  tho'  thou  sing 

No  parting  ode  for  me, 

I  will,  fair  fane,  this  tribute  bring, 

Of  truest  love  to  thee. 
5 


"  QUAM  DILECTA." 

I  had  rather  be  a  door-keeper  in  the  house  of  my  God,  than  to 
dwell  in  the  tents  of  wickedness. — Ps.  lxxxiv.  10. 

0  Saviour,  when  the  morning  bright, 
Shines  forth  upon  the  eastern  main, 

And  pours  a  flood  of  golden  light 
Thro'  Gothic  arch  and  coloured  pane ; 

1  love  to  bow  within  thy  shrine, 
And  seek  thy  help  and  grace  divine, 
And  in  thy  dwelling-place  to  raise 
The  song  of  joy,  and  chant  of  praise. 

Far  better  in  thy  courts  to  wait, 
And  look  upon  thy  beauty  there, 

Than  with  the  rich  to  move  in  state, 
And  live  within  their  mansions  fair : 


47 

For  in  thy  temple,  only  blest, 

I  find  delight  and  holy  rest ; 

There  would  I  wish,  thy  child,  to  dwell, 

Until  I  bid  the  world  farewell. 

When  at  thine  altar,  Lord,  I  kneel, 

And  view  thy  cross  uplifted  there  ; 
When  with  the  organ's  sweetest  peal, 

We  send  to  Thee  our  solemn  prayer ; 
The  thought  of  heaven  inspires  the  soul, 

And  gives  it  wings  of  faith  to  rise, 
And  join  the  saintly  notes  that  roll 

Thro'  thy  cathedral  of  the  skies. 


50 

Father,  and  Saviour  of  the  world !  our  days 
Are  thine  :  the  first  and  last  Thou  only  know'st ! 
0  grant  that  when  we  bid  the  world  adieu, 
It  be  with  faith  in  Thee ;  with  love  to  man, 
And  in  communion  with  Thy  Holy  Church : — 
Be  death  to  us,  but  calm  exchange  of  life, 
From  shrines  below,  to  purer  shrine  above  ! 


THE  BANNER  OF  THE  CROSS. 

This  was  the  imperial  standard  of  Constantine,  presented  him 
by  the  angel  of  Heaven.  The  rich  drapery  of  that  snowy  cloud, 
which  gently  floated,  emblazoned  with  the  "  Tourm  Naca,"  and  the 
sign  of  the  Son  of  Man,  was  the  first  Banner  of  the  Cress. 

The  Banner  of  the  Cross  we  raise, 
With  pious  heart  and  fearless  hand ; 

The  ensign  that  in  olden  days, 
Led  on  the  apostolic  band. 

We  lift  the  royal  standard  high, 
And  point  it  to  its  native  sky  ; 
Where  first  by  angel  hands  unfurl'd, 
It  waved  in  beauty  o'er  the  world. 


52 

Upon  its  cloudy  foldings  fair, 

The  Cross  with  golden  lustre  shone  ; 

And  words  of  comfort  glowing  there, 
Inspired  the  Church,  when  sad  and  lone. 

To  this  the  martyr-heroes  clung, 
When  loud  the  battle  tocsin  rung ; 
And  this  through  thickest  of  the  fight, 
They  followed  by  its  guiding  light. 

And  when  some  warrior  bleeding,  fell, 
And  in  his  armour  sank  to  rest, 

This  was  his  shroud  : — was  it  not  well, 
The  Banner'd  Cross  upon  his  breast  ? 

Then  lift  it  up  in  Jesus'  name, 
And  bear  it  on  thro'  ill  and  shame  ; 
Till  earth  the  promised  conquest  see, 
And  bless  the  Cross  in  Jubilee. 


XOTUS  IN  JUDEA. 


In  Jewry  is  Jehovah  known, 

His  name  is  great  in  Israel ; 
For  there  those  holy  rites  are  shown, 

That  of  his  power  and  honour  tell. 

At  Salem, — happy  seat  of  peace  ! 

His  rich  pavilion  is  displayed  : 
And  Zion's  blessings  will  increase, 

Since  God  his  dwelling  there  hath  made. 

There  in  the  battle's  grand  array, 

He  brake  both  hostile  shield  and  sword ; 

And  arrows  winging  swift  their  way, 
Fell  powerless  at  his  sov'reign  word. 


54 

Thy  judgment  given  from  on  high, 

They  heard, — earth  trembled, — and  was  still : 
And  all  the  meek  beneath  the  sky, 

Were  solaced  by  Thy  gracious  will. 

Make  to  the  Lord  a  solemn  vow, 
Before  Him  with  oblations  bow  : 
His  name  let  all  His  priests  confess, 
His  majesty,  and  holiness. 


BEATITUDES. 

Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you,  and  persecute  you, 
and  say  all  manner  of  evil  against  you  falsely,  for  my  sake. 

St.  Matt.  v.  11. 

0  welcome  tidings  to  the  faithful  heart, 
That  longs,  thro'  weal  and  woe,  to  bear  a  part 
In  sacred  battle,  'neath  that  banner  bright, 
Whose  cross  and  crown  appear  in  dazzling  light. 
0,  welcome  tidings  !  rich  beatitude  ! 
Balm  for  the  poor,  the  persecuted  good  ! 

Blest,  when  the  cold,  unfeeling  world, 

Revile  our  name  for  Jesus'  sake ; 
Blest,  when  the  lip  of  scorn  is  curl'd, 

And  jesters  proud  derision  make. 


56 

Blest,  e'en  when  persecution's  steel, 
All  glist'ning  waits  to  pierce  the  breast : 

Blest,  who  that  bloody  weapon  feel, 
And  sink  with  martyr's  joy  to  rest. 

On  !  Christian,  on !  with  joy  and  hope  ; 

With  fearless  soul  and  steadfast  eye  : 
For  thou  with  every  foe  may'st  cope, 

In  Jesus'  strength  and  panoply. 

On  !  till  the  strife  of  time  is  o'er ; 

The  pearly  cross  hath  mark'd  thy  brow  : 
On  !  like  the  holy  saints  of  yore, 

Who  sweetly  sleep  in  Jesus  now. 


PATMOS. 

I,  John,  was  in  the  isle  that  is  called  Patmos. — Rev.  i.  9. 

As  when  some  monarch  with  imperial  host, 
Moves  stately  on  ;  and  'mid  the  dazzling  glare 
Of  waxen  lights,  his  royal  garb  spreads  forth  ; 
Till  with  the  grand  departing  train,  the  pomp 
And  pageant  fade  from  captive  eyes  away. 
Thro'  the  vast  circuit  of  emblazon'd  halls : — 
So  left  the  sun  his  peerless  throne  on  high, 
And  in  the  slow  receding  march  displayed 
Rich  crimson  garments  decked  with  golden  rays : 
Fold  upon  fold,  by  cloudy  ermine  grac'd, 
In  varied  hues,  swept  on  in  majesty ; 
Till  fainter  grew  the  colours  of  his  robes. 
As  westward  he  the  azure  path  pursued ; 


58 

While  splendor  vanish'd  as  the  day  declined, 
And  evening  came  at  Patmos'  rocky  isle. 

With  peaceful  mind,  the  exil'd  saint  beheld, 
From  his  lone  cave,  the  glorious  sight,  and  watch'd 
The  darkness  as  it  gathered  o'er  the  deep ; 
Till  e'en  fair  Samos'  shores  were  dimly  seen, 
And  her  white  mountains  faded  from  the  view ; 
Then  laid  him  down,  and  sunk  in  slumbers  mild, 
Lull'd  by  the  music  of  the  rolling  deep. 

Eventful  rest !  in  which  a  view  was  given 
Of  heaven's  arcana,  and  the  doom  of  man 
Thro'  ages  yet  remote, — morhentous  times  ! 
Then  saw  the  prophet's  eye,  th'  adoring  throng 
Before  the  throne,  in  purest  vestments  clothed ; — 
The  holy  altar,  where  the  angel  stood 
With  golden  censer,  whose  sweet  incense  rose, 
Offer'd  with  prayers  of  all  the  saints,  to  God  : 
The  trumpets  seven  he  heard,  and  mark'd  each  scene 
That  started  forth  obedient  to  their  sound ; 
The  voice  of  harpers  came,  and  notes  of  song 
Roll'd  on  thro'  heaven  like  ocean's  roar : — 
Jerusalem  in  bridal  beauty  shone ; 


59 

Whose  pearly  gates  and  richly  jewelled  walls, 
Are  sure  inheritance  and  home  to  those, 
Who  wore  the  sacred  cross  below,  and  gave 
Their  hearts  to  Him,  whose  heart  was  pierc'd  for  us. 

0  isle  of  visions  !  still  in  thee  remains, 
A  little  remnant  of  thy  church  of  old  ; 
And  from  the  soil  thy  holy  John  hath  trod, 
Sweet  chiming  bells  the  sailors  list  with  joy, 
While  floating  o'er  the  blue  iEgaean  sea. 
Here  long  may  saintly  men  their  worship  pay, 
And  call  by  fast  and  prayer  the  blessing  down ; 
Till  earth  no  more  her  countless  shrines  shall  need, 
But  one  bright  fane  embrace  us  all  above. 


CHRISTMAS  ODE. 

"  Adeste  fideles, 
Laeti  triumphantes, 
Venite,  venite  in  Bethlehem." 

Welcome,  holy  festive  time  ! 
Welcome,  with  a  merry  chime, 
Pealing  from  the  ancient  fane, 
That  smiles  to  greet  thee  once  again. 

Fir  and  box  and  fragrant  pine, 
Bring  ye  to  the  sacred  shrine  : 
Meet  to  beautify  the  place, 
The  gate  of  Heaven  and  ark  of  grace. 


61 

Round  the  altar  garlands  twine, 
Where  the  silver  vessels  shine ; 
Wreath  the  precious  cross  to-day, 
And  here  your  highest  worship  pay. 

Let  the  loud  "  Hosannas"  ring  ! 
Christ  is  born  our  Priest  and  King ! 
Christ  foretold  in  Eden's  shade, 
And  hope  of  Eva's  children  made. 


Judah,  favour'd  tribe  and  blest, 
Lift  thy  sign  and  Lion  crest ! 
Lo  !  salvation  comes  from  thee, 
And  earth's  triumphant  jubilee. 

List !  upon  thy  quiet  plain, 

Angels  breathe  a  charming  strain  ; 

Soothing  well  the  shepherds'  fear, 

With  tidings  glad  and  news  of  cheer. 
6* 


62 

Eastern  princes  haste  to  thee, 
Bearing  gifts  from  India's  sea, 
Myrrh  and  cassia,  gems  and  gold, 
In  Bethlehem  their  stores  unfold. 

Judah,  now  no  longer  least, 
Be  thy  name  at  Israel's  feast, 
By  thy  brightly  beaming  star, 
The  nations  know  thee  from  afar. 


0  Mary,  first  of  daughters  blest, 
To  thee  what  happy  lot  was  given, 
When  gently  folding  to  thy  breast 
The  precious  babe,  the  gift  of  Heaven. 

When  o'er  the  meek  and  lowly  bed, 
Where  Jesus  laid  his  infant  head, 
'Twas  thine  to  watch,  with  spirit  mild, 
The  peaceful  slumbers  of  thy  child. 


63 

Hail,  highly  favour'd  !  full  of  grace  ! 
Thou  blessed  by  the  angel's  word  : 
Blest  thro'  the  world  in  ev'ry  place, 
The  virgin  mother  of  our  Lord. 


Welcome,  Jesus  !  King  divine  ! 
Son  of  David's  royal  line  ! 
Show  thy  sceptre  while  we  pray, 
And  list  our  festive  hymns  to-day. 

Welcome,  Saviour  !  Rock  and  Light, 
To  the  sinking  souls  in  night ; 
Hear,  0  hear,  our  heart's  request, 
And  save  us  in  thy  home  of  rest. 


STANZAS. 


And  he  went  a  little  further,  and  fell  on  his  face,  and  prayed, 
saying,  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me. 

St.  Matt.  xxvi.  39. 
Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  drink  of. 

St.  Mark,  x.  39. 

"  Drink  this :"  it  is  the  cup  of  woe, 
The  gloomy  tide  of  grief  and  care ; 

The  Marah  we  must  taste  below  : 
0  mortal !  sweeten  it  by  Prayer. 


65 


And  he  took  the  cup  and  gave  thanks  and  gave  it  to  them,  say- 
ing :  Drink  ye  all  of  it. — St.  Matt.  xxvi.  27. 

The  cup  of  blessing  which  we  bless. — 1  Cor.  x.  16. 

"  Drink  this :"  it  is  the  cup  of  love  ; 

The  chalice  to  thy  lips  upraise  : 
The  rich  foretaste  of  founts  above  : 

0  mortal !  thou  hast  cause  for  Praise. 


DAILY  DEVOTION. 


Day  by  day, 

When  morn's  glad  ray, 
In  yonder  sky  grows  bright ; 

We  bend  the  knee, 

In  prayer  to  thee, 
Creation's  Life  and  Light. 

Night  by  night, 
When  from  the  sight, 

The  sun  hath  pass'd  away ; 
In  darkness'  hour, 
We  trust  Thy  power, 

And  humbly  love  to  pray. 


67 

Light  and  shade. 
The  Highest  made, 

To  give  Him  constant  praise  : 
0  then,  to  Thee, 
'Tis  meet  that  we, 

Our  daily  worship  raise 


LINES. 

WRITTEN  IN  AN  ALBUM,  UNDER  A  PICTURE  OF  A  BOUGH 
AND  A  CROSS. 

And  when  they  came  to  Marah,they  could  not  drink  of  the  wa- 
ters of  Marah,  for  they  were  bitter : — and  Moses  cried  unto  the 
Lord,  and  the  Lord  showed  him  a  tree,  which  when  he  had  cast 
into  the  waters,  the  waters  were  made  sweet. — Exodus  xv.  23.  25. 

I  will  bring  forth  my  servant  The  Branch. — Zech.  iii.  8. 

It  was  not  gold;  it  was  not  a  precious  stone  that  sweetened  the 
waters  of  Marah,  but  a  tree — type  of  the  tree  of  Calvary — type  of 
Christ,  "The  Branch,"  who  hath  brought  sweetness  and  consola- 
tion to  us  pilgrims  and  sinners. 

0  when  thy  heart  hath  bitterness, 
A  secret  grief  and  weight  of  care, 

Repine  thou  not  ;  the  Marah-tide 

Will  gladden  if  "The  Branch"  be  there. 


69 

Look  to  the  Cross ;  its  sacred  might, 
The  lone  and  fainting  soul  shall  save  ; 

And  life's  dark  stream  roll  sweet  and  bright. 
If  this  be  cast  upon  the  wave. 


THE  PATRIARCH'S  SHRINE. 


A  saintly  one  hath  gone  to  rest, 
The  crosier  glist'ning  on  his  breast ; 
And  bright  the  golden  mitre  shone, 

When  waxen  lights  their  lustre  gave, 
And  mournful  music  wild  and  lone, 

Re-echoed  through  the  darkened  nave. 

Then  sweetly  on  the  midnight  air, 
Arose  the  slowly  chanted  prayer ; 
While  silver  censers  cast  around, 

On  fleecy  clouds,  a  mild  perfume ; 
And  the  deep  bell,  with  awful  sound, 

Toll'd  sadly  o'er  the  prelate's  tomb. 


71 

He  is  at  rest  within  the  fane, 

And  naught  shall  wake  his  sleep  again  : 

He  will  not  list  the  matin-song 

That  riseth  often  o'er  his  bier  : 
Nor  heed  the  crowds  that  press  along 

In  haste,  when  holy  hour  is  near. 

He  hath  laid  down  the  staff  he  bore, 
And  priestly  crown  he  nobly  wore  ; 
To  worship  in  a  purer  shrine, 

With  cherub  spirits  by  his  side, 
And  angel  choirs,  whose  notes  divine, 

Welcom'd  the  Bishop  as  he  died. 

Rest,  shepherd  of  the  faithful,  rest ; 
The  sacred  cross  is  on  thy  breast ! 
And  when  the  trumpet  fills  the  sky, 
0  Jesu,  who  thyself  didst  die, 
Raise  us,  with  him  who  slumbers  here, 
Among  thy  chosen  to  appear. 


ORATE    FRATRES. 


Brothers,  let  us  bend  the  knee, 

In  the  holy  shrine  below ; 
Where  the  blessed  cross  we  see, 

Orate  fratres  Domino. 

Hasten,  ere  the  eastern  skies 

Bright  with  golden  sunbeams  grow  ; 
Let  the  matin-prayer  arise  ; 

Orate  fratres  Domino. 

Worship,  when  the  heavens  above, 
With  celestial  splendor  glow  : 

Come  with  fervent  heart  and  love  ; 
Orate  fratres  Domino. 


73 

Worship,  when  the  shades  of  night, 
Round  the  earth  their  curtains  throw  ; 

Ask  ye  then  unfading  light ; 
Orate  fratres  Domino. 

Night-fall  is  the  time  for  prayer : 
Slumber  is  the  balm  of  woe  : 

Vesper  hymns  will  lull  your  care  ; 
Orate  fratres  Domino. 

Thus  thro'  life  sweet  homage  pay, 
Humbly  in  the  fanes  below  : — 

Till  we  join  the  angels'  lay, 
Orate  fratres  Domino. 


THE  EVENING  LIGHTS. 

Another  old  custom  there  is  of  saying,  when  light  is  brought  in, 
— "God  send  us  the  light  of  heaven!"  and  the  parson  likes  this 
very  well. — Herbert's  Country  Parson. 

A  welcome  to  the  evening  lights, 

The  sombre  shades  are  nigh  : — 
"  God  send  us  light  I" — they  have  no  nights 

In  our  sweet  home  on  high. 

The  evening  lights,  how  fair  they  seem 

At  fireside  and  in  shrine ; 
Whose  silent  teachings  as  they  gleam, 

Unfold  us  truths  divine  : — 


15 

Of  Aaron,  and  his  lamps  of  gold, 

That,  o'er  the  veil  of  blue, 
And  all  its  richly  woven  fold, 

Their  dazzling  brightness  threw  ; 
Or,  'mid  the  fragrant  cloudy  maze 

That  rose  with  priestly  prayer, 
Appeared  by  their  mysterious  rays 

To  feel  Jehovah  there. 

Of  holy  apostolic  time, 

When  in  some  rocky  cell, 
At  vesper  hour  and  op'ning  prime, 

(As  legends  truly  tell,) 
The  Christian's  worship  oft  was  paid. 

Where  sunbeams  never  shone, 
And  ancient  chant  and  prayer  were  said 

By  taper  lights  alone. 

Sweet  evening  lights,  then  welcome  in, — 

Fit  emblems  of  our  Lord, 
The  Light  amid  the  gloom  of  sin, 

The  true  Eternal  Word. 


76 

And,  0  !  when  fades  our  passing  day ; 

Life's  vesper  moments  nigh, 
0  Jesus  !  lighten  thou  the  way 

With  radiance,  as  we  die  ! 


SONNETS. 


THE    HOLY    ROOD. 


ki  The  rood,  when  perfectly  made,  had  not  only  the  image  of  our 
Saviour  extended  upon  it,  but  the  figures  of  the  Virgin  Mar}'  and 
St.  John,  one  on  each  side  :  in  allusion  to  John  xix.  26.  'Christ 
on  the  cross,  saw  his  mother,  and  the  disciple  whom  he  loved, 
standing  by.'  " 

I. 

Emblem  of  hallow'd  hours  !  I  gaze  on  thee, 
And,  lost  in  meditation's  trance,  I  seem 
To  kneel  at  Jesus'  feet  on  Calvary, 
Pouring  my  prayer  to  Him  who  dies  for  me  : — 
Till  some  chance  thought  dispels  the  pious  dream, 
•  Or  notes  of  music  mournful,  sweet,  and  clear, 
Fill  the  charmed  soul,  and  tell  me  1  am  here. 
A  homeless  one,  my  home  is  in  Thy  fane : 


78 

At  morn  and  eve,  dear  Lord,  I  linger  there, 
Full  oft  alone ;  save  when  some  mourner's  train 
Comes  slowly  in  with  bier  and  sable  shroud, 
Yet  soon  returns  to  mingle  with  life's  crowd, 
And  I  am  left,  e'en  silent  as  yon  pair, 
Who  day  by  day,  with  me,  Thy  temple  share. 

ii. 

'Tis  eve ;  and  scarce  the  pictured  panes  on  high, 
Can  catch  a  parting  beam  of  light,  to  show 
Their  beauteous  hues,  and  sacred  blazonry : 
The  night  steals  on,  and  dim  the  arches  grow, 
While  darkness  spreads  along  the  nave  below ; 
And  from  the  altar's  deep  recess  alone, 
One  taper  casts  its  tiny  rays  around ; 
E'en  as  the  solemn  torches,  o'er  the  ground 
Of  dread  Golgotha,  faintly,  wildly  shone. — 
But  that  dear  rood  above  becomes  this  hour: 
That  shaded  brow,  and  meekly  bended  head ; — 
The  Virgin  Mother  gazing  on  the  dead ; — 
Give  to  the  vesper  thoughts  a  matchless  power, 
And  keep  the  musing  spirit  sweetly  bound. 


"LUX  ALMA  JESU." 

He  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning  when  the  sun  riseth, 
even  a  morning  without  clouds. — 2  Sam.  xxiii.  4. 
I  am  the  bright  and  morning  star. — Rev.  xxii.  16. 
There  shall  come  a  Star  out  of  Jacob. — Num.  xxiv.  17. 

Light  of  the  lone  and  anxious  heart ! 
When  pleasures  fly  and  joys  depart ; 
When  trembling  in  the  dreary  shade, 
I  sigh  for  peace  and  friendly  aid  ; 
0  shed  o'er  me  thy  sacred  ray, 
And  cheer  the  pilgrim  on  his  way. 

Light  of  the  heart !  when  love  and  truth, 
That  bless,  in  fancy,  dreams  of  youth, 
Have  pass'd  on  airy  wing  away, 
And  left  but  gloom  for  visions  gay  ; 
0  then  sweet  "  Star  of  Jacob"  rise, 
And  shine  thro'  life's  beclouded  skies. 


80 

Light  of  the  heart !  if  in  the  cell 
Where  earth's  affections  fondly  dwell, 
A  lustre  burn  so  brilliantly, 
That  I  forget  to  gaze  on  Thee ; 
Dim  Thou  in  love  the  rival  fire, 
And  be  Thyself  the  soul's  desire. 

Light  of  the  heart !  beside  me  shine, 

In  pleasure's  hour,  with  hue  divine ; 

Lest  lur'd  by  phantom  lights  I  stray 

In  sin's  enchanting  rosy  way, 

Where  dazzling  lamps  unnumber'd  gleam, 

Resplendent  with  their  tempting  beam. 

Light  of  the  heart !  in  sorrow's  night, 
When  rest  and  mirth  are  put  to  flight, 
When  hope's  neglected  flame  hath  fled, 
And  all  we  love  are  false  or  dead ; 
0  constant  "  Star  of  Jacob"  rise, 
And  sweetly  guide  us  to  the  skies. 


NOTES. 


(1)  St.  Mark  vi.  47—51.  St.  John  vi.  16—21.  St.  Luke  v.  1—3. 
(1)  St.  Luke  v.  27—28.     St.  Matt.  ix.  9. 

(3)  St.  Matthew  preached  for  a  few  years  to  his  brethren,  and 
afterward  to  the  inhabitants  of  Asiatic  ^Ethiopia  or  Arabia . 
where  he  died  a  martyr. 

(4)  It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  how  many  islands  are  distin- 
guished in  the  history  of  the  church.  The  ancient  prophecy  has 
indeed  been  fulfilled.     "Surely  the  isles  shall  wait  for  Me." 

(5)  Several  of  the  Twelve  preached  the  Gospel  in  Oriental  coun- 
tries. St.  Peter  inChaldea;  St.  Thaddeus  in  Mesopotamia;  St. 
Philip  in  Upper  India  ;  St.  Bartholomew  and  St.  Thomas  in  India ; 
St.  Simon  the  Zealot  in  Egypt,  and  St.  Matthew  in  Ethiopia.  Their 
successors  in  the  Holy  Office  confirmed  what  had  been  wrought, 
and  spread  still  farther  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  Of  St.  Simon  we 
find  the  following  beautiful  remark  in  an  historical  narrative: — 
"Nor  could  the  coldness  of  the  climate  benumb  his  zeal,  or  hinder 

8 


82 

him  from  shipping  himself  and  the  Christian  doctrine  over  to  the 
Western  islands,  yea,  even  to  Britain  itself." 

(6)  The  Church  was  both  the  light  and  the  life  of  the  world,  by 
the  presence  of  Christ  in  the  same. — Matt.  v.  14.  1  John  v.  12. 

(7)  Among  the  persecutors  of  the  early  Christians,  Nero  stands 
pre-eminent.  His  cruelties  knew  no  bounds.  On  an  anniversary 
of  his  birth-day,  he  scourged  the  meek  followers  of  Jesus,  to  amuse 
the  people ;  and  burned  many  of  them  at  the  corners  of  the  streets 
that  night,  to  give  light  and  splendour  to  his  wicked  festival. 

(8)  Ignatius  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Antioch  by  the  apos- 
tles.    He  suffered  martyrdom  at  Rome,  A.  D.  107. 

(9)  The  proconsul  asked  as  he  approached,  if  he  were  Poly- 
carp  1  and  when  he  assented,  he  persuaded  him  to  deny,  (Christ) 
saying,  "Have  pity  on  thine  old  age,"  and  such  other  things  as 
are  customary  with  them;  as  "Swear  by  the  fortune  of  Csesar; 
repent;  say,  away  with  the  godless !"  (Christians).  Then  Poly- 
carp,  looking  constantly  on  all  the  crowd  in  the  amphitheatre, 
stretching  forth  his  hand  toward  them,  groaning  and  looking  up 
to  heaven,  said  "  Away  with  the  godless."  But  when  the  pro- 
consul pressed  him,  and  said,  "  Swear,  and  I  will  release  thee, — 
reproach  Christ;"  Polycarp  replied,  "Eighty  and  six  do  I  serve 
him,  and  never  hath  he  injured  me,  and  how  can  I  blaspheme 
my  King,  and  my  Saviour  ?"  When  the  proconsul  continued  to 
urge  him,  saying,  "  Swear  by  the  fortune  of  Cgesar,"  Polycarp 
saith,  "Since  thou  art  so  vainly  urgent  that  I  should  swear  by 


83 

the  fortune  of  Caesar,  and  feignest  not  to  know  what  I  am,  hear 
me  declare  it  with  boldness,  I  am  a  Christian." — Palmer's  Ecclesi- 
astical History. 

(10)  St.  Augustin  was  Bishop  of  Hippo  in  Africa;  St.  Martin 
Bishop  of  Tours;  and  St.  Ambrose  Bishop  of  Milan. 

(11)  "Beda,  the  most  learned  and  celebrated  writer  of  the  8th 
century,  lived  and  died  an  humble  recluse  in  the  monastery  of 
Yarrow  in  England." 

(12)  St.  Bernard  was  a  monk  of  the  Cistercian  order,  and,  by 
his  excellent  example  and  correct  precepts,  raised  that  fraternity 
to  an  enviable  distinction  in  usefulness,  in  purity,  and  in  piety. 

The  convents  of  Mount  St.  Bernard,  in  the  Alps,  are  well 
known  as  hospitable  asylums  for  the  weary  traveller. 

(13)  The  church  of  St.  Sophia  or  Holy  Wisdom,  the  cathedral 
of  Constantinople,  was  turned  into  a  Turkish  mosque,  after  the 
taking  of  that  city  by  Mahomet  II. 

(14)  "But  in  the  night  he  placed  on  his  shoulders  a  bag  con- 
taining the  vessels  of  the  altar,  and  his  vestments,  and  privately 
left  the  place,  (Pomerania,)  taking  the  road  to  Stettin,  and  chant- 
ing the  nocturnal  service  as  he  went."  Otto  was  Bishop  of  Bam- 
berg. 

(15)  Wickliffe  has  been  often  styled  the  "Morning  Star"  of 
the  Reformation. 

(16)  Ulric  Zuingle  advocated  a  reformation  in  Switzerland, 
before  Luther  publicly  appeared. 


84 

(17)  Latimer  and  Ridley  were  burned  at  Oxford,  in  the  reign 
of  the  persecutor,  Mary. 

(18)  The  British  Isles,  in  the  period  just  succeeding  the  renun- 
ciation of  the  Papal  authority,  had  many  most  learned  and  exem- 
plary prelates. 

(19)  Reginald  Heber,  Bishop  of  Calcutta,  died  at  Trichonopoly, 
April  3,  1826.     His  memory  is  blessed. 

(20)  Scotland  and  England  united  in  transmitting  the  Episco- 
pal prerogatives  to  the  American  church.  The  truly  venerable 
names  of  Seabury  and  White  now  stand  at  the  head  of  a  line 
numbering  already  forty-seven  bishops,  and  the  Catholic  Body  of 
Christ  is  daily  increasing  at  home,  and  sending  laborers  abroad. 


ror*>JW 


